the graveyard shift
by Chiwibel
Summary: "You never told me", Fareeha began, "about your mother". Ana and Jack said nothing, uncomfortable but listening. Jesse realized he had not told that story ever, and the only person he would have shared his memories with was part of it. Was the cause of it. Of sorts. "Reyes killed her". [Glassy Sky part 3]


**the graveyard shift**

 **GLASSY SKY part 3  
** A sort of prequel/interquel to be read before the last chapter of ' **broken mends best** ' (Glassy Sky part 2), which has already been **posted completely on AO3**.

* * *

Fareeha asked him days before Jesse ran away.

They were on a mission, with Ana and Jack not so far behind. Whatever they said, it would be heard.

"You never told me", Fareeha began, "about your mother".

McCree, his last name heavy, swallowed. He knew the Amari's story, completely, and he considered himself part of it and part of their family. However, Fareeha had always been curious about the kid with the too big hat that came to the world out of nowhere land.

"She died".

"So did mine".

Ana and Jack said nothing, uncomfortable but listening. Jesse realized he had not told that story ever, and the only person he would have shared his memories with was part of it.

Was the cause of it. Of sorts.

"Reyes killed her".

Jack froze. "Reaper?"

"No". Oh, how McCree wished it had been that simple. But no. Therefore, he started talking.

It had happened decades ago, after his first two years at Blackwatch. Young Jesse McCree, barely nineteen, carried their emblem proudly. He was keeping himself clean; he was doing the world some good.

His momma would be as proud as he was, so Gabriel offered to take him back to New Mexico because _you've earned that much, kid_. Just a weekend, though, more than enough, Jesse assured.

So they took the first flight available and they slept through most of it.

(Jesse had woken up first, and had taken a couple of pictures of Gabriel's drooling face).

(Ana still had them).

The rest of the ride was uneventful. Gabriel stopped on a couple of shops, tourist traps, and bought crap, because there was no other word for the trinkets he had spent his money on.

(And a jacket with a big red 76 on the back).

(Really, they were hopeless).

Jesse had filled their walk with tales of Mama McCree. Of how she was scarier than Ana, louder that Wilhem and angrier than Gabriel on his coffee-less mornings. How she had taught him how to shoot, how to ride horses and how to swear like a sailor in the middle of a storm. Mama McCree raised Jesse Adán McCree with an iron fist under a roof of love and care.

(There was no need for the sad parts that moment, because Gabriel knew them all: how debt made McCree run into the biggest meanest gang, how he fought to reach the top and give his mother what she deserved at the cost of his own goodness).

They stopped at the canteen for a drink and some minutes of rest and _the best chocolate milkshake ever, boss_. While Gabriel paid and Jesse pretty much licked his glass clean, someone spoke.

"About time you came back", they said to his ear. An old friend of the kind of friends you call friend because no insult would suffice, remnants of Deadlock that should have been gone with the rest. Their name had not been important back then and would never be later again, but for them to still be there meant no good. So Jesse ran.

(And Gabriel followed).

He knew his path home, how could he forget, so he ran and ran and jumped until he reached the humble ranch and the edge of the town. The sight that welcomed him would have filled him with warm and nostalgia.

But the door was open.

Momma never left the door open. _She don't want no mosquitoes in, she don't want no sand in._

Jesse called for her.

(Gabriel called for him).

So he went in. "Ma", he called. "Ma", he screamed.

On the kitchen floor, the same kitchen where momma made pies and chicken and so many birthday cakes, there she laid. On a pool of blood, flowing not unlike his own serape against the wind. She'd been cut in half, like cattle, the kitchen knife still inside her, reflecting light.

Jesse puked.

Jesse cried.

He fell close to her, holding her torso and cradling her head between his arms. Gabriel held him instead, feeling how the kid trembled like a leaf about to fall off, but Jesse did not notice. His mother still breathed.

"Jesse", she called.

There he was, mama, there he was. If only he came mere seconds sooner, of only.

"Please", she begged, "Peace, please".

Peacemaker was so close to his hands, resting against his hip. Jesse couldn't do it.

But Gabriel did.

He took the revolver, already loaded, aimed and

 _and she was gone._

That had been the only time Gabriel Reyes used Peacemaker in his life.

Fareeha apologized; Ana held his hand and Jack couldn't look at him. McCree still knew what they wanted to ask. _And then what?_ And then, McCree started again, he held his mother's cooling body, bleeding body, while Reyes dug. The boss asked for a shovel, a damn shovel, and found one _you know what for? Of course you don't._

He dug a grave. Gabriel Reyes spent an entire afternoon digging a grave while looked, unmoving. Out of all the corpses he had buried with the man, he couldn't do it for the one that was his. The man's hands were covered with his mother's blood and yet his grip never faltered, not with the gun and neither with the shovel. Only once had Jesse seen Gabriel doubt before shooting and that had been when they had met in less than stellar circumstances.

After covering the corpse, his mother's corpse, with dirt, McCree knelt over the grave and wept. Gabriel prayed an entire _Padre Nuestro_ before leaving the kid on his own.

His boss would be back by the early morning to find McCree in the same position. When Jesse dared to look at him, face red, discovered that Gabriel was redder, completely covered in blood that was McCree's to spill and claim revenge over.

"It's over, _mijo_ ", Gabriel said, offering him a hand.

(It was Gabriel's revenge too).

Dirty and shaken, they left before the sun rose. Death and sorrow following them all the way back. Gabriel's hand never left Jesse's shoulder until they reached base and the man made sure no questions were asked.

Jesse McCree would mourn for two decades and then some, because when he let his mother's rest on peace, Gabriel Reyes had dared to follow her steps.

Well then, the gunslinger would follow.


End file.
